


The Shadows' Roots

by aprildaze



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Root AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 22:56:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14778878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aprildaze/pseuds/aprildaze
Summary: Kneeling at his father’s grave, the boy with silver hair is granted a new purpose, a new life, and above all this promise:“You have no feelings. You have no past. You have no future,” Danzō repeats, hand heavy and curled tight around the nameless boy’s shoulder.“In Root, there is only the mission.”





	The Shadows' Roots

The boy with silver hair pretends to be asleep. He doubts Kinoto is fooled, but the older boy still pretends to tap him awake.

“Danzō-sama has asked for you,” he whispers in the dark, likely more for the other boys listening in. The foundation dormitory is too still, too quiet, to be natural. The boy with silver hair nods affirmative, quickly moving to get dressed and follow his comrade into the hallway.

They pass three pairs of guards in their gruesome masks: the painted faces at once parodies and reflections of Konoha’s ANBU attire. The boy with silver hair holds his own mask loose at his side, fingers slotted through the eyeholes, a cloth mask drawn over his nose and mouth. He follows his comrade, who pauses only at Danzō-sama’s door.

“Enter,” a voice calls from inside, as comforting and confident as when the boy with silver hair first heard it, three years ago in a well-lit graveyard.

Kinoto pushes inside; the boy with silver hair follows and both boys kneel, faces bowed. It’s enough time for his eyes to sweep the room: the usual set-up, but with Danzō-sama standing behind a desk bare of mission reports or sealed scrolls.

“Stand,” Danzō-sama orders. They do so, and the boy with silver hair gets a better look at the other figures in the room: a small child with choppy brown hair as well as a nurse, the same woman who handles his hormone therapy. She appears excessively soft for a place like this, but the boy with silver hair has witnessed her slit the throats of two foundation spies.

Danzō-sama comes from around the desk, one hand resting on his staff, the other falling heavy on the shoulder of the boy with silver hair.

“This is Kinoto,” he says — and like that, he is. Kinoto, the new Kinoto, glances left, reclassifying himself besides his now, again, code-less comrade.

In Root, you have no name. You have no feelings. You have no past. You have no future.

There is only the mission.

The new Kinoto follows Danzō-sama’s gaze toward the young child, a boy, with eyes so wide and long that they make the rest of his body seem small and sickly — just like the bodies left by Orochimaru.

Kinoto’s gaze sharpens. It’s the boy from the lab. The boy with no memory.

“This is Kinoe,” Danzō-sama proclaims. If names meant anything in Root, then this one would carry some weight. “It’s your responsibility to teach him about the Foundation.”

“Yes, Danzō-sama.”

“Take him back to the dormitory. Training begins tomorrow.”

“Yes, Danzō-sama.”

The new Kinoto bows, and then looks to Kinoe. He’s… never had a partner before.

He tries not to feel anything about it.

“This way,” he says, holding open the office door. Kinoe startles, glancing up at Danzō-sama. For a moment Kinoto wonders if the kid is going to hug their imposing leader goodbye, but instead he demonstrates some intelligence, quickly darting across the room to follow Kinoto outside.

Good. Doesn’t pay to be sentimental in Root.

“These are Danzō-sama’s private chambers,” he says, motioning back to the closed door before beginning a brisk pace towards the dormitories. “Never enter without permission.”

“Yes, Kinoto-sensei.”

Kinoto winces. 

“Just Kinoto,” he corrects. The new codename will be tricky enough to manage without a useless honorific attached.

He doesn’t hear a response, so he glances back to make sure the kid is still keeping up.

To his surprise, the boy is just a step behind him, almost like a shadow. Kinoe catches Kinoto’s eye and nods, a surprisingly strong motion on such a tiny body.

Kinoto feels something in him settle. Maybe the boy will be okay.

Maybe the boy will survive this.

 

///

 

“Your little shadow’s gone.”

Kinoto pauses, porcelain mask in hand. For a woman with no feeling, Tsuchinoe looks suspiciously smug.

“Where?” he asks. She smirks, pulling back her violet hair.

“With Danzō-sama.”

Kinoto inclines his head, setting down his hound mask and moving on to the arm guards; his fingers stumble over the latches, even though he’s been wearing the ANBU Root uniform for nearly a year.

“Should I be upset?” he asks Tsuchinoe, voice careful in its neutrality.

“No,” she ruffles his hair with her sweaty hand, laughing as he ducks away. “Just don’t miss him too much, little hound. I think we’re all about to find out what’s so special about your shadow.”

She leaves him to strip the rest of his uniform, so he can head to the showers and finally be clean. He doesn’t linger under the warm spray of water, even when water was all he could think about less than an hour ago, with the blood just beginning to cake against his skin.

Kinoto raises his hands above his head, watching the enemy-nin’s blood run down his sore limbs in gentle rolls of reddish-pink water.

His chest feels funny.

Heavy, he amends, before reaching for the soap. 

At dinner, Kinoe is still absent.

Tsuchinoe catches his eyes across the table; Kinoto turns before she can complete her joke. He’s never really understood it — the familiarity some of his comrades have with another. Trust is important, but friendship feels too close to feeling, too close to a threat to their duty.

_Don’t miss him too much,_ Tsuchinoe had warned: but Kinoe isn’t a friend, isn’t someone worth missing. 

He’s just… a mission.

Kinoto heads straight towards the dormitories after finishing his meal, planning to go to bed, or pretend to go bed, which is nearly as nice. He slides open the dormitory door, surprised to find a second figure laying down this early in the evening — surprised further to recognize the unruly mess of spiky brown hair.

His chest feels funny.

Light, he amends.

“Kinoe.”

“Kinoto-san!” Kinoe scrambles to sit up, bunching a scroll paper in hand before hastily flattening it again with his palm, looking between Kinoto and the paper with a soft, honest smile. “You’re back early!”

Kinoto shrugs, crossing the room and flopping onto Kinoe’s bed, despite it being right beside his own. “Maa, so little faith in me?”

“I would have more, if I ever saw you fight seriously.”

Kinoto frowns, mostly because the expression is hidden behind his cloth mask along with half of his face. He settles his pale arms behind his head, glancing right to get a good look at his partner’s new scroll. Of the two of them, Kinoto has always been more a reader.

“Spoils from your mission with Danzō-sama?”

“Mission?” Kinoe frowns, shaking his head. “No, Danzō-sama…” he trails off. “Danzō-sama has taken up my training, personally.”

Kinoto blinks. It’s rare, but not unheard of. Kinoe is young and a quick learner, likely to outpace many of the others who have been a part of Root longer, since birth instead of infancy.

“Congratulations.”

Kinoe’s hands tighten around the scroll, eyes caught on one of the figures drawn upon it.

“I couldn’t do it.”

Kinoto turns his head back towards the ceiling.

In the quiet, his partner sighs, voice wavering but stronger as he speaks again.

"Danzō-sama put all his faith in me… but what if I can never do it? Mokuton.”

Kinoto doesn’t let himself react to the name of a long dead jutsu. Tsuchinoe and the others have long whispered that Kinoe is special, different: that it is this difference that led Danzō-sama to saving Kinoe from Orochimaru’s mass graves.

“The technique of the Shodai Hokage?” Kinoto asks.

Kinoe nods.

“It’s what I’m meant to be alive for.”

Kinoto pushes up on his elbows, looking closer at the scroll. There’s a long series of hand symbols, as well as a drawing of a man holding his arms out to a fanged beast, what looks like a fox from Kinoto’s close angle. It’s not a very good drawing, but Kinoto gets the impression that doesn’t matter. This is everything Danzō-sama sees in Kinoe, the reason he paired a sickly boy with a prodigy, the reason he’s taken over Kinoe’s training personally.

“You could even control the nine-tailed fox?” Kinoto asks.

Kinoe runs his hands over the scroll, careful and gentle, as if his palms have never been sharp enough to hold a weapon.

“He could.”

For a moment, Kinoto sees a sickly boy, dressed in a hospital gown: but a year is distant enough to call the past. Those memories have no place in the strong Foundation student sitting beside him.

Kinoto bumps his shoulder against his partner’s.

“Well… I’ve never met the Shodai Hokage,” he begins, drawing out a smile from Kinoe. “But I know you. I have every faith that that you’ll master the mokuton.”

 

///

 

The tree bursts from the ground, thin but fully-grown, branches twisting and multiplying above their heads to catch the worst of the rubble.

Kinoe shouts something, but Kinoto can’t hear him above all the screaming.

His eyes dart up to the imposing figure of the Nine-Tails, taking up the skyline like the burning sun. Kinoto’s never seen something so impossible — so bright with hatred and its intent to kill.

Kinoto’s hands tighten around the unconscious body slung over his back: the shinobi is unfamiliar, but real. A weight terrible enough to ground Kinoto to reality.

They have to keep moving.

Kinoe darts forward toward Kinoto, using his mokuton as footholds when the roofs will not suffice. His control is incredible, and despite the chaos he seems to remember Danzō-sama’s orders, pulling back evidence of his power just as quickly as his utilizes it.

When he stops before Kinoto his breath is quick and short; Kinoto hopes it’s not the binder. Kinoe swears the chakra infusion makes it safe for battle, but he’s never used his chakra like this, where every moment means the difference between life and death.

 _It’s not important,_ he sharply reminds himself. _In Root, there is only the mission. ___

“Tsuchinoe and Tsuchinoto are up ahead at the rendezvous point.”

Something flashes in Kinoe’s expression — maybe an emotion, too quick to read — but what is left is fierce and serious, dark eyes reflecting the chaos of their burning village.

“The mokuton,” he says, simply.

_“No.”_

The answer is too quick, strangely savage in his throat. 

“No,” Kinoto repeats clearer, tamping down the reckless feeling threatening to cloud his actions. Kinoe is one of the most formidable members of Root, but the Nine-Tails isn’t an enemy nin. It is nature itself: pure and destructive.

Kinoe’s power won’t be enough to match that: no one alive has the power to match that. 

“We can’t—”

“We have our orders,” Kinoto interrupts. “Don’t go against them.”

“I can protect them!”

“Kinoe,” Kinoto warns. The unnamed shinobi’s weight is heavier on his back; he knows, if Kinoe decides to run, he won’t be quick enough to follow. “You’re breaking the rules.”

“They’re _dying._ ”

Most Root missions are quick, silent.

So even at the edge of Konoha, the screams are an almost overwhelming crescendo.

“They’re not the mission.”

Kinoe looks away. His face is young and shadowed. For a moment, Kinoto allows himself to see how incredible it is: that a boy who’s only known the shadows of Konoha still loves it enough to die for them.

“Kinoe,” he pleads. “Don’t throw your life away.”

_They deserve more than this._

“Alright,” Kinoe answers. His eyes are gleaming, almost as if he wants to cry, but when he speaks his voice does not waver. “Alright.”

 

///

 

They’re seventeen and fourteen when the rules go to hell.

Kinoto’s breathing hard, pressing a hand against his side, blood pooling over his fingertips. His cloth mask is ripped over his pale face, but his hound mask is held safely in Kinoe’s hand: he wants to laugh at the mess of it all. Only Kinoe would find a stupid mask so important, and it’s this mask, traded for a minute and a minor wound, that has the Jōnin so damn close behind them.

“Kakashi!”

 _Kinoto_ keeps his eyes forward: he does not hesitate, no matter how familiar the voice is, a decade later and a decade deeper. 

“Kinoto?” Kinoe asks.

“Keep going,” he orders.

Of course Kinoe didn’t see any danger in doubling back for the mask. All he saw was their completed work: five corpses and three teens and no ghosts.

“Kakashi!” a voice booms through the trees. “Rival, I know it’s you!”

He has no name, no feelings. Without the weight of his past Kinoto pushes himself faster, further. All he has to do is run, all he has to do is be quick enough to —

A weight slams into his back and suddenly there’s no breath in his lungs. The ground is rushing towards him and there’s nothing to grab onto except his attacker, the two crashing through branches in a blur of Jōnin green and ANBU gray.

A name is in his ears and he snarls, refusing it, refusing _weakness_.

Branches rush up from beneath them, punching against their sides but softer still than the ground would be. The new tree grows around them like a cage — but the Jōnin doesn’t hesitate, kicking through the wood as if it were as thin as paper. He hooks his arm around Kinoto’s bleeding stomach, dragging him out through the makeshift exit: the two fall the remaining meter to the ground, rolling onto the grass and dirt. Kinoto swings out with his fist but the Jōnin dodges, whipping back to pin Kinoto down.

He’s quick — quick enough to kill Kinoto.

Instead Gai is sobbing, fat tears running down his square face.

“It really is you!”

Kinoto goes still, trying to breath steady through bruised ribs.

“You’re threatening a member of ANBU Root,” he answers, careful and cold. “If you don’t let me go, now, there’ll be trouble.”

“After the funeral, you disappeared. I — we all thought you died, Kakashi.”

Kinoto’s vision is blurring. He wants to blame it on the blood loss but Gai — he never thought he’d see Gai again, that he’d _remember_.

“That’s not my name anymore.”

Gai’s eyebrows knit close together.

“What could your name possibly be, if not your own?”

“Kinoto!”

Dulled planks of wood shoot up from the ground, slamming into Gai while narrowly missing Kinoto. Kinoto rolls to the side and tries to push to his feet, wavering and pale, one hand at his side and the other gripping a kunai. He has to —

His knees give out. 

Hands catch him as he falls: soft brown, small and familiar.

“Kinoe,” he breathes, lighter in his chest. “Let go.”

The rules are clear: never compromise a mission for a comrade.

“No,” Kinoe answers, bracing his arm around Kinoto’s waist. “I can protect you.”

Gai is staring at them, eyes still bright with tears. 

“Who are you?” he demands.

“No one,” Kinoe answers.

Kinoto presses closer to his partner’s side. _No one,_ but that isn’t quite true: Kinoe is one of the most powerful shinobi in Root and if the Hokage learns of the Mokuton then — then Kinoe will be taken away.

“You have to leave,” Kinoto whispers, voice low. “The rules—”

“You’re my friend,” Kinoe snaps. “If I can’t protect you, then the rules are worthless.”

There is a kunai in his left hand. The gleam of it must catch Gai’s eyes too: he stiffens, shifting into a fighting stance, hands extended as if welcoming the oncoming threat. 

It’s too late.

The secret of Mokuton is out, unless Gai dies with it.

“Don’t,” Kinoto whispers.

Kinoe looks to Kinoto. Gai seizes the opening, rushing forward with a booming yell. Kinoe’s attention snaps back to his enemy; he throws the kunai with sharp precision, the knife a blur in the cold air. Gai hastily dodges right, giving Kinoe just enough time to drag Kinoto back and up, retreating towards the tree line.

“Lend me your right hand!” he shouts. Kinoto’s arm is shaking badly but he quickly stumbles through the snake seal.

_Is this how Gai dies?_

The Mokuton bursts forward, tall planks of wood pressing together in a tight shield: Kinoto recognizes it as defensive maneuverer, meant to slow Gai down — but not to harm him.

It doesn’t make sense: it’s not a choice Kinoe, one of their best assassins, would make.

Kinoto tries to balance on the first branch but he stumbles, nearly slipping from Kinoe’s grasp. “It’s a secret,” he begins, and even through the blood-loss, he knows he’s barely making sense. “You’re a secret,” he insists. “They’ll take you.”

Kinoe grimaces, crouching to drag Kinoto onto his back, fully supporting his partner’s weight before he pushes off again.

“Danzō-sama will protect me.”

“No,” Kinoto answers. This is the Foundation, this is Root. “He’ll be furious with you.”

And it’s Kinoto’s fault — _Kakashi’s_ fault, the silver-haired ghost he could never kill completely.

“Gai is your friend, isn’t he?” Kinoe asks.

Kinoto wants to say no: there are no friends in Root. 

Yet here is the boy with silver hair, still nameless, being dragged to safety by a boy who claims to be just that.

“Then I’ll protect him, too,” Kinoe promises.

 

///

 

In the weeks that follow, they never speak of Kakashi, but it’s evident that Kinoe hasn’t forgotten him.

On missions, everything is the same. They are a quick, brutal, and efficient pair: but in their quiet moments, alone, there seems to be a building darkness behind Kinoe’s eyes, flickering and uncertain.

Kinoto can’t shake the instinct that the shadows hide more dangerous feelings.

“Stay close to me,” he whispers. 

Kinoe glances towards him. In the dappled sunlight of the mountainside, it’s hard to gage his expression, until he smiles, small and comforting.

“We’re alright,” he answers.

Kinoto wants to argue, which is foolish. Almost as foolish as the impulse that Kinoe is someone he’s meant to argue with, meant to protect.

Not a comrade. Not a mission.

His gaze flickers forward towards Danzō-sama. It is the three of them, alone. Their leader does not favor Kinoto in the same way as Kinoe, but that’s no excuse for the tension he feels, walking higher and higher along the mountain path.

Except: they’re still awaiting their punishment from a man who does not know forgiveness.

The path breaks into a wide clearing, marked by jagged rock rather than thick fauna. Danzō-sama pauses to look back at them, gnarled hand resting against his staff.

“Kinoto,” he orders. Kinoto only hesitates a moment before rushing forward, kneeling besides his leader.

“Yes, Danzō-sama.”

He rests his hand on Kinoto’s shoulder. 

“You understand,” he says softly, voice deep but too quiet to carry back towards Kinoe. “The mokuton is the future of our village. Many admirable shinobi... have died to see it flourish.”

In Root, you have no past.

_You have no future._

Kinoe acted rashly to let Gai escape with the secret of the Mokuton’s existence, but Kinoto — Kinoto is the reason Kinoe is under threat at all.

And for the sake of the village, that weakness must be eliminated.

“I understand, Danzō-sama.”

Danzō-sama smiles and draws his hand away, walking onward towards the clearing’s center.

The sun beats overhead. There are no shadows here.

Danzō-sama looks up and says simply: “You have three days.” Only when he body-flickers away, does Kinoto turn to face Kinoe, lightning gathering in his hands sharper and brighter than any knife.

Kinoe’s eyes slide down to the chidori, and back to Kinoto’s gaze.

 _“No,”_ he says.

Kinoto rushes forward with the chidori outstretched, Kinoe leaps back as roots lash up from the ground, reaching for Kinoto. He jumps from root to root in a replica of Kinoe’s own quick technique, balancing on the violent plants. The chidori fades as he’s forced to use his arms to keep balance, but the moment he settles back on the ground the roots settle in a tangle on the now cracked foundation of rock.

“Only one of us will leave this mountain,” he warns. “You have to fight.”

Kinoe shakes his hand, hands tensed in the beginning of a snake seal.

“No. I won’t let you die.”

Chakra bursts in Kinoto’s palms, the sound of a thousand birds filling the mountainous valley.

“Mokuton: Mokusatsu Shibari no Jutsu!”

Sharp wooden beams burst from Kinoe’s arms, racing to wrap around Kinoto. Kinoto slashes at the branches with the chidori, feeling the drain in his arm and chest. The two partners are nearly matched in skill, but Kinoe has him beat on endurance: this fight has to be quick, or Kinoe will never feel threatened enough to take action.

Kinoto lunges forward, Kinoe shouts his second seal: sharpened trunks burst from his arm, meeting the chidori. Kinoe pushes until they’re grappling hand to hand, their bodies thudding heavily against the rocky soil. _Damn it,_ Kinoe will _lose_ if he doesn’t start fighting with killing intent.

“This is the power of the Shodai Hokage!” Kinoto shouts. “Konoha needs you!”

“They died!” Kinoe shouts back, eyes bright with shadows: this close, Kinoto sees the darkness is not hiding anger — but grief. “I wasn’t strong enough to protect them, but I know now, I can protect you,” he promises, eyes fierce and strong.

“I don’t need your protection.” 

The two slam into the rocks, neither allowing the other the upper hand. Kinoto tries to gather the strength for chidori, but this close, he knows Kinoe would be unable to dodge it. _If only Kinoe would use mokuton seriously._

“Danzō-sama will never allow the mission to fail,” Kinoto presses.

“I don’t care about Danzō!” Kinoe shoves harder, rolling so that he is braced above Kinoto. “You have friends. You have a past, waiting for you still!”

Gai and Kinoe are nothing alike, but the way they look at him, as if he’s someone precious, something more than a tool or a mission —

 _No._ He won’t imagine a future without Kinoe.

Kinoto is stronger than his partner and so he pushes back, this time using his full weight to pin Kinoe to the ground.

“ _You_ have a friend.”

Kinoe pales, and then grimaces.

“You’d have me kill him?”

 _Yes,_ Kinoto wants to answer. _To see you stronger. To see you be the shinobi Root needs you to be._

But Kinoe doesn't let him answer. 

“Kakashi,” he pleads.

The name sounds strange in his voice, as if he is calling back someone long lost to the dead. Kakashi’s breath catches in his throat. He chest feels strange: heavy and light all at once.

“Fifty-nine,” Kinoe whispers. “Orochimaru killed fifty-nine of my friends before I— how could I kill one more? How could I, when you have, you have people _waiting_ for you—”

Kakashi wretches back but Kinoe doesn’t follow. Of course he doesn’t: Danzō-sama believes Kinoe’s feelings will die with Kinoto’s murder, but Kinoe has always been stronger than grief. Stronger than a young boy with silver hair, who had knelt at his father’s grave and sworn a life without feeling was better than a life marred by shame.

“They don’t matter,” Kakashi protests, but his voice is soft and weak.

“You have to leave Root,” Kinoe’s mouth is set in a fierce line. “You have to kill me.”

Kill Kinoe, the boy who has been at his side for nearly a decade: his partner, his friend.

 _No._ He's tired of noble sacrifice. He's tired of suicide.

“Alright." Kakashi looks up, grabbing tight onto Kinoe’s shoulders to drag them both upright. “We’ll leave Root.”

Kinoe startles.

“Danzō-sama—”

“I thought you didn’t care about Danzō,” Kakashi counters, bright mind racing as he holds Kinoe close. No doubt the mountain is being watched, but Danzō won’t be expecting both of their betrayals. As long as it’s a fellow Root operative and not the leader himself waiting to ambush them, then they might have a chance, slim and foolish as it might be.

“I _don’t_ care,” Kinoe replies, and despite everything, he’s smiling. Kakashi tries to avoid staring but finds that his eyes keep being drawn back to the smile's warmth and honesty, even as he struggles to create a plan that will allow them — both of them — to survive.

Kinoe presses his free hand against Kakashi’s cheek. His eyes are dark and serious, his expression steady and calm.

“This isn’t a mission anymore. We’ll survive — because we’re fighting for each other.”

 

///

 

The Hokage’s chambers are flooded with light and quiet, the pair guarded by a single ANBU agent. This alone seems to be a sign of Hiruzan-sama’s trust, who must know that such a small guard would hardly be much of anything against the pair of them.

“I’ve thought of a name for you,” Kakashi whispers.

His friend looks up, eyes catching on the fresh bandage over Kakashi’s right eye, before meeting his gaze.

“A name?”

Kakashi nods. “If you’re out of Root, you’ll need one,” he pauses. “Tenzō.”

Tenzō snorts.

“Heavenly body?” he asks, turning and settling his head back on the taller boy’s shoulder. “Keep thinking.”

Kakashi grins, expression safely hidden beneath his cloth mask.

Sitting in the Hokage’s office, waiting for Hiruzan-sama to return with their fate, Kakashi feels at peace.

With a name, his past, and his future.

**Author's Note:**

> aprldaze on twitter & pillowfort


End file.
